


a chance for freedom

by htruona (circhester)



Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background SidLink, Character Development, Character Study, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hyrule (Linked Universe)-centric, Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Minor Injuries, Serious Injuries, Violence, Wild (Linked Universe)-centric, hyrule and wild are BEST friends and i refuse to hear otherwise, i'm afraid that ah. it's mostly angst. but there's some fluff too, what do you mean there are seven other links, yeah :(
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:07:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26861872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circhester/pseuds/htruona
Summary: Hyrule had spent four years of his life running, hiding, doingeverythingin his power to prevent Ganon’s return—no matter the cost to himself.But it was okay. For as long as he kept fighting, everyone else was safe. For as long as he kept hiding, nobody else would have to suffer under Ganon's rule. For as long as he kept running, everything was fine, and that wasokay—(Itwasn’tokay—no. Not by a long shot. But when a portal leads him to a friend and a new world and a perspective he had forgotten was possible, then… maybe, with a bit of work, he could change things. Maybe itcouldbe okay.)
Relationships: Hyrule & Wild (Linked Universe)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 176





	1. Chapter 1

Link’s heart thrummed in his chest; his feet pounded against the ground. His eyes looked over his shoulder for what seemed to be the millionth time, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of whatever monster had been chasing him, stretching his hearing to detect the faintest clangs of its weapon, the slightest growls under its breath, hisses of _Ganon_ and _blood_ and _revival_ leaving its lips—

There was nothing there. He couldn’t see a thing. Blood rushed through his ears, his heart beating so loudly that he half thought that the monster would detect his presence again through the thumping sound alone, and an almost-pain reverberated through his chest with each thump.

But he looked around him again, and he could see no movement in the bushes caused by anything other than the wind. Nothing was audible but his own heartbeat, but that was so overpowering that even if there _was_ something to be heard, Link doubted that he would be able to hear it anyway.

He swallowed thickly, setting those thoughts aside, and moved forward. 

He had been _running._

From what type of monster he couldn’t particularly remember—his memories only held the wild waving of its weapon, accompanied by the overwhelming knowledge that he had to get _out_ before it saw a lick of his blood and the increasing certainty that every second longer he stayed increased Ganon’s chance of revival tenfold.

Link gritted his teeth, clenched his hands into fists, and squeezed his eyes shut. _Running_. It was nothing new, and by this point it certainly came as no surprise—he’d been running for four years now. Away from monsters, away from people, away from…

...Away from nearly everything, he supposed.

It had all begun after defeating Ganon. Instead of the monsters retreating into the shadows as Link had expected, mourning their loss and providing a much needed peace to the kingdom, they had only grown stronger. The attacks never ceased—they _increased._

In the beginning it had affected everyone. Towns attacked with rigorous persistence, travellers ambushed on the roads. There had been no discrimination between who was attacked and who wasn’t—if the person wasn’t allied to Ganon, they were an enemy. That had been that. Until—

—Link stiffened, hearing a rustle through the air—

—The monsters’ attention had shifted to _him,_ and him alone. Plots of revival and blood and sacrifice arose and spread to the knowledge of every monster in the land with no warning. It was sheer luck that he had managed to get by without incident before finding out why the monsters’ eyes were trained on him, and he only had found out due to an incident with one of the _Eyes of Ganon_ hiding in a village.

He shivered, his arm flaring up in pain that no longer had a reason to be there, wisps of forgotten memory like a hand seizing his breath—

—A final rustle—

—A moblin jumped out from the forest onto the path. Link slashed down with the Magic Sword, sending a cutting beam of light flying to its neck. Blood sprouted and it fell to the ground, lifeless.

He stopped moving, listening carefully to the sounds of the forest. Wind rustled through the trees. No birds chirped nor did any animals sound, but Link was used to that; they had all been scared off years ago. Any animals who hadn’t escaped the forest had been killed by monsters. Either that, or by _him,_ because as much as he hated to do so he did need something other than what he could scavenge from plants to survive—and the occasional trip to the castle to visit the Zeldas wasn't enough to fulfill that need in whole. 

Life couldn’t thrive here. He knew that elsewhere, up in the far reaches of Hyrule or in the surrounding kingdoms that had separated from Hyrule at some point during its long downfall, where Link and all the monsters following him could never reach, animals and plant-life alike _did_ flourish. 

Link missed peaceful creatures like them. Unlike monsters who tried to kill him every single moment, unlike Hylians who he couldn’t trust _not_ to be a part of Ganon’s army, Link could trust animals. He really did miss them.

Nothing sounded in the forest. No monsters, no people, nothing at all. Nothing lived down here south of Death Mountain—it had been _Ganon’s_ home, after all. And, well, Link’s home _too,_ now. He didn’t dare venture north unless genuinely needed or to visit the Zeldas so they wouldn't force their way down here to _him;_ the people of Hyrule actually _lived_ up there, and all he would do was bring monsters to their doorstep.

Link refused to let the townspeople be endangered any more than they already were. 

All was silent, until a single rumble of a monster’s breath could be heard in the distance.

_Stay hidden._

Link darted between the leaves and bushes, becoming completely still. A shield spell would carry a much bigger safety net in the chance that the monsters _did_ manage to sneak up on him, but it had the side effect of giving an almost ethereal red glow to himself—something which would pose far too large a risk of them finding his hiding place. It was best to not let them have the chance of finding him.

_Make no sound._

He quietened his very breathing, taking no more than short inhales and exhales and refusing to move a muscle despite how cramped it was. Rustling sounded from the distance, and Link knew that there were monsters approaching.

For four years now, he had followed a simple set of rules. The first: if hiding was an option, attacking _wasn’t_. That, much like the shield spell, was far too big a risk—one single mistake, one single failed dodge, meant one more drop of blood in the enemy’s hands. Meant that Ganon’s revival was one step closer to happening.

Monsters strolled along the path: two moblins and a daira, together. 

Link’s heart shot into his throat. A—A _da_ _ira?_

The moblins he could easily handle alone, but the daira would be… hard. He _hated_ dealing with dairas. The things always managed to hit him _somehow,_ which meant they would draw blood and they would take it to Ganon’s ashes and Ganon would be _back_ —

—Link swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to _breathe_. Breathe through the tension solidifying his limbs, breathe through his chest’s refusal to accept air. _Breathe_. Because if he didn't, things would only get worse for both himself _and_ the kingdom as a whole.

One fact remained: this wasn’t good. 

Especially not since they were _teaming up._ Before recently, that had never happened except between monsters of the same species, but now it seemed that they were doing it all the time—

...Something was changing with the monsters. Link didn’t know what—and he didn’t want to find out, either. 

He let them carry on right past him, muscles tensing more and more every second. One of the moblins stopped. Sniffed the air. Link tensed further, internally cursing a moblin’s innate high sense of smell, as his blood pumped louder and louder—

It turned to his position—its two companions alerted instantly and charging.

The second rule: anything that spotted him had to be killed on sight.

Link jumped out and shot a sword beam at the first moblin’s neck. The second moblin received a kick to the stomach, sending it sprawling to the ground, followed by a downward stab to the throat. 

He removed his sword, and the blood coating its steel was _black_. Just like all the strange monsters were these days—and Link had no idea what was causing this change but… the fact it was happening sent a shiver down his spine.

The black-blooded monsters were always ridiculously strong, too, so what that posed for the daira Link didn’t want to—

—The daira lifted its axe, preparing to swing—

—The third rule: no monster, under any circumstances, was to be allowed to hurt him. Dodging was the ultimate strategy. Above everything, it was imperative that the only blood drawn in the fight was the _monsters'._

Link danced backwards, well-practised movements and experience allowing him to predict exactly where the monster would swing and dodge accordingly. He cursed under his breath. With that axe waving about, it was only a matter of time before he stopped being able to dodge and was hit; only a short time before his blood was collected and used on Ganon’s ashes, and everything he had done years ago would be for nothing—

The main rule of them all: never take chances. Chances would get him killed, and his death would destroy the kingdom—if a blood-free battle wasn’t possible, _run_.

Link turned on his heel and bolted.

If there was one thing Link could do, it was run. He had been running for a long time. So long that he didn’t know a life without it anymore.

⁂

Link cursed, tightening his grip on his shield as he saw the beginnings of night fall across the sky and realised that he was _nowhere_ near safety. 

Worse—he was near _Death Mountain itself_ , and being cornered there would force him to venture into the caves, undoubtedly leading to him getting lost. It was the one place that, even with his usually abysmal sense of direction, _always_ made him lose his way without fail. Figuring out a way back out of Death Mountain should he get lost would take _days_ —days which he did _not_ want to spend in that place.

But, if he was cornered… 

He would have no choice but to venture deep inside. With any luck, by going inside he would escape whatever was following him, and only stumble upon some keese at best. Yet he knew that within the deepest caves of the mountain lay in wait far deadlier beings. He prayed, with everything he had and to Goddesses he wasn’t entirely convinced he believed in, that it wouldn’t come to that.

He had to find safety, and _quick_ —but where?

Link stopped the pounding of his feet down the path, barely stopping himself collapsing onto the ground from sheer exhaustion. He couldn’t stop now. The growls of monsters echoed through the night sky, their presence an omen hanging thickly in the air. Tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword, he surveyed the area.

...The daira was gone.

Link breathed a sigh of relief, running a hand through his hair. A fight against a daira was… not a risk he was willing to take. His gaze drifted to the night sky, twinkling with stars, and something within his heart twisted.

At night, the monsters who, during daylight, roamed the forests now _owned_ them. Nobody with sense was in the wilderness during nightfall—it was a quick and easy way to ensure your own death.

Footsteps padded through the trees. Leaves rustled, and he knew that it wasn’t because of the wind.

Link tensed, narrowing his eyes as he looked around. There was nowhere to hide that he was completely certain wasn’t inhabited by monsters already—this would be a fight, whether he liked it or not. A chance he _had_ to take. 

A skeletal hand broke through the dirt. Link controlled his breathing, keeping his eye trained on the stalfos that was steadily breaking through the ground, before hearing the familiar sound of more dirt breaking. More skeletal hands appeared. 

His heart stuttered—he was surrounded. Stalfos were, at least, rather easy to deal with, but… his mind clouded with visions of being overpowered by the group, being injured in such a way that he couldn’t fight, being left _vulnerable_ —

Vulnerable was something he had always hated being. Whether it be from monsters surrounding him, having no way to cover his back; being in a village, not knowing who was innocent and who was one of Ganon’s allies in disguise, having to watch everyone’s every movement to avoid the chance of someone getting the drop on him; or being with people he knew were on his side, having to hide everything—of how he felt so trapped beneath everything, of how he was sick and tired of Ganon haunting him, of how he wished everything would just _stop_ —

Slashing one stalfos across the chest, he quickly jumped back into the space vacated by that monster. Relief flowed through him—all of his enemies were in front of him now. This was easier. This had fewer risks; less of a chance of failure.

The other three stalfos were dealt with without much hassle, and Link could finally breathe again.

His breath was cut short, however, as it stuttered with the familiar growl of something _bad_. Something he thought he may have imagined; something he would have been convinced was in his mind were it not for the visual confirmation staggering towards him.

A gibdo.

Link stepped backwards, his heart pounding.

Gibdos weren’t supposed to appear outside of dungeons. He had never _seen_ one outside of a dungeon. 

Multiple stalfos appearing together was strange, but something he could set aside. Moblins and daira teaming up in battle was unnerving, yes, but something he could ignore. But a gibdo, appearing in the wilderness—

—Something was very, _very_ wrong.

He supposed that _goriyas_ had moved up from dungeons into the wilderness, too, but that was _years ago_ and only in the wake of Ganon’s defeat; not during a completely random time with no major event to prompt it.

...There was something different about the monsters in the world recently, and Link found that he didn’t like it one bit. He edged further backwards. With each step his movements became more rapid, and before he knew it he was _running_ —

—Just like always.

The monsters were all different, becoming more and more dangerous, and there was nothing he could do except _run_. He was the ‘hero’ of the time, supposedly on the same level as the Hero of Legend he had heard stories of his entire life—both of the Princess Zeldas had compared him to that fabled hero. Looking back, his heart could only sink at their misplaced admiration. 

He was no _hero_. He was just some kid who had killed Ganon—but couldn’t even do _that_ properly. That he was no hero, he knew for a fact, despite Impa’s confidence because of that script he had been able to read. 

Because what kind of hero resorted to running the moment any dangerous monster got within five feet of him?

 _One that has sense_ , a tiny part of him whispered, tiny shadows burning at the back of his thoughts. _It’s better to run than risk getting caught._

The worst part was that he knew that he definitely _could_ stay and fight; knew that he _had_ the strength to defeat that gibdo; knew that he didn’t _have_ to run. He could stay. He could confront the monsters, lure them away and take them on one by one, even if all of them at once would surely overwhelm him.

But when he thought about it all, _everything_ began to suffocate him, a mass of tension and anxiety attacking his stomach and sending nausea through him and making him feel so _trapped_ that he couldn’t think of doing anything but _running_ —

Link shook it off and kept running, running, ignoring the ache in his thighs and his shortness of breath and the pounding in his head, accompanied by the knowledge that he could pass out any second. If he stopped, he wouldn’t be able to start running again. He had to keep going. Keep going, keep going, keep going until the gibdo was—

A black… hole of some kind opened in front of him, blocking the path. Link skidded to a halt. His legs threatened to collapse beneath him—the urge was strong, but the need to keep going and not let the gibdo and the stalfos he had heard at some point and whatever other monsters that were lying in wait catch him was stronger. So, Link did not fall. He stood even through the burning in his legs and the bile in the back of his throat.

Where did he go from here?

Not back. The gibdo was still behind him, and despite its slow movements Link could still hear its footsteps against the dirt path. He could wait until it was close but not close enough to hurt him, take the monster out with ranged attacks, but that was too risky. Definitely not a chance he wanted to take—not with a gibdo, in any case, with its paralysing breath. Around the hole…

A fifth rule: never stray from the path. Monsters lay in wait among the trees, hidden within the bushes, ready to strike at any moment—

Not around. He couldn’t risk that. He wouldn’t risk that.

Footsteps pounded, growing louder and louder as the monster drew closer and closer—

He had to fight. There was no choice. He had no idea what the hole could be, and with those kinds of things, it was best not to risk finding out. _Take no chances._

A growl floated through the air. Footsteps echoed, the silence between each one echoing the previous. The gibdo came into focus, no more than twenty metres away from Link and closing in. 

Link unsheathed his sword and slashed it, sending a burst of light flying through the air. The gibdo took it head on, the beam barely doing any damage at all— _curse_ those defences of theirs. Link swallowed the rise of anxiety brought on by that and threw his boomerang. The gibdo stumbled to the side, and the boomerang missed completely. Link couldn’t swallow his anxiety this time.

He tightened his grip on his sword, edging backwards. The gibdo charged up a breath, and in an instant, unleashed it in a tornado—Link barely managed to sidestep it and avoid the paralysis brought on by it. Charging up a sword beam and sorely missing the bow and arrow he had lost years ago, he attacked once again. The gibdo seemed to take no damage at all.

Vaguely, he saw the boomerang whirl past him and go directly into the black hole. It didn’t reappear at the other side, and Link cursed the loss, because wasn’t the breaking of his bow years ago _enough_?

The gibdo approached and hung its head back in the type of motion Link recognised to signify that it would let loose a field of paralysis around it. On instinct, he hopped backwards, knowing that getting caught up in that would mean his own demise and Ganon’s retu—

—Black engulfed him. 

⁂

Link had always heard stories of places like these. Of places not ravaged by ruin, of places not plagued by monsters at every turn, of places filled with fresh grass and thriving animals and life occupying every single corner.

But that was that—stories. Fairy tales. The Kingdom of Hyrule hadn’t come close to being in that sort of state since the time of the Hero of Legend, when the hero had single-handedly dragged the kingdom from its dark ages and brought it into a new era of prosperity. Or, at least, that was how the tale went… 

That was why Link was convinced that the place he was currently lying down in had to be some sort of dream. 

The grass, green and luscious, sparkled with the remains of morning dew. Birds fearlessly flew high in the air and crickets jumped in the sea of grass. The sun beamed its light upon the land, proud to be a part of the world. 

In all of his memory, he had never seen the sun this bright.

The entire world stretched for _miles_ , looking as if hours of care had been poured into the creation of every single blade of grass, the position of every rock, and the flowing of all the streams. The only thing he could compare it to was the pictures in that old book he had seen in the library. He smiled faintly, remembering glossing over the strange shapes of the words he hadn’t been able to—and still could barely—read, and marvelling over the bright pictures, wishing that a place like it could replace the one he lived in.

Not that that was possible, he knew now. It was nice to dream—but there was a line between realism and fantasy, and Link didn’t want to get his hopes up for a grand restoration when it would never happen.

…At the very least, there was no war anymore. There wouldn’t _be_ another war if Link could help it. Ganon was gone, and the remaining monsters were too occupied with his revival to bother attacking the citizens anymore. 

It was the only thing about Ganon’s final curse that gave him relief. If the monsters weren’t waging war, the Hylians had a chance to rebuild and repair everything that had been lost in the original conflict, and Link was prepared to do everything in his power to keep the monsters’ attention drawn away from the rest of Hyrule’s people for as long as he could. 

The cost to himself was irrelevant. The dread that boiled inside of him every single day at the prospect of Ganon’s return was irrelevant. As long as the people were safe, he’d sacrifice anything—and if that sacrifice was a peaceful life, then he could accept that.

Deep down, he knew that there was one single object at the heart of it all. One single object that, if he could obtain and destroy it for good, would end _everything_ : Ganon’s ashes. But even attempting to get close to them—

—a shiver ran over him, and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought—

—would certainly mean his demise. Would certainly mean that his blood would be spilt, and Ganon would return, but this time with nobody to stop him. 

Getting the ashes wasn’t an option. If he tried, he would most certainly fail, and the world did not need a second failure from him.

That same black hole in his stomach appeared, consuming everything, and Link tried to hold himself up beneath the familiar feeling of everything crushing him. Ganon’s shadow suffocated him every time it crossed his mind and once again he wished for _anything else_ to deal with it all for him—because he certainly couldn’t confront it himself.

Swallowing thickly past his emotions, he began to look around the area—immediately rushing over to pick up the boomerang that had landed behind him, noticing that any trace of the black hole was gone. He let the familiar weight of the boomerang calm the shaking of his hands, forcing himself to look around to find something—anything to take him away from his feelings.

He gasped, coming face-to-face with even _more_ picture book views. At the foot of the mountain he was apparently on top of, lay a grand field of brilliantly coloured trees; red, orange, green. He inhaled sharply, unable to take in the whole sight at once and overpowered by every section of the view ahead of him.

Goddesses, it was _beautiful_ —and an old, forgotten desire within him burned with the need to _explore._

The tension in his stomach ebbed away, and in a forgotten mood of _calmness,_ Link gladly set it aside for another day. 

He stood up and began to move forward before he knew it. Within him raged a bright fire whose inferno he hadn’t felt in years—the innate, burning desire to _explore._ To discover every edge of what was laid ahead of him, to look beneath every rock and tree and blade of grass, and to aimlessly wander around the area with no other goal but to see all it had to offer.

A smile wormed its way onto his face. He started to carefully descend the steep hill of the mountain, worries of monsters and blood and Ganon tucked away into the back of his mind, all the while one question did remain at the front of his thoughts:

Where _was_ he?

He had to find out—and the only way to do that was to descend, and explore it all.

⁂

“I,” —Link, hero of the Wilds and avid _despiser_ of Guardians, gritted out—“fucking,”—he lifted his shield—“ _h_ _ate_ ,”—he aimed the shield at its target ahead and did his best to push down every instinct of fear that its beeping sent rushing through him—“ _Guardians_.”

The Guardian fired, and Link sorely missed Daruk’s Protection as he parried the laser back, hitting it in its eye. The Skywatcher recoiled before aiming at him once again.

Link cursed. Wouldn’t the thing just _die_ already?

He didn’t even know what he was _doing_ here, for Hylia’s sake. He’d gone up to Akkala to deal with a lynel acting strangely and attacking travellers even outside of its usual territory, and along the way, _something_ had dragged him to this place.

...And, of course, it was full of Guardian Skywatchers. Just like every other vaguely important place in this kingdom. He didn't even have any ancient arrows to deal with these things, which left him _very much_ wishing he'd gone to see Robbie before heading down this way. 

Link parried another laser, but the Skywatcher swerved from its path before it made its mark. He scowled. 

“Can’t you be like the other Guardians and _not_ avoid your own lasers?” Link asked rhetorically, glaring up at the thing as it beeped mockingly. “You are the _worst_ type of Guardian. Without any doubt. The _worst_.”

Turrets came second, Stalkers third, and the decayed ones last, in terms of how much of a pain they were to deal with. But in terms of how terrifying they were… Stalkers definitely came first. Something about them never failed to send a shiver down his spine—but for what reason, Link had no idea. It wasn't like he _remembered,_ anyway.

One last parry and the Skywatcher fell to the ground. Link grabbed the parts it left behind—there were a few shafts, and he needs ancient arrows—before heading _swiftly_ in the other direction, through overgrown vines to arrive at a…

...Spring?

He climbed up the steps, looking around at the spring with fascination. A Goddess statue stood in the water, much like she did in the Spring of Wisdom, and Link wondered with half a mind whether this spring would show a shrine as well should he offer a dragon’s scale.

He frowned. He had never been here before, but this place looked… awfully _familiar_ to him—

⁂

Link—the first one—cursed, seeing a camp of monsters that he had never seen before in the distance.

Nausea swirled in his stomach. A _camp_ of monsters?

…Monsters _didn’t_ camp out in the open, and they definitely didn’t camp so close to paths either. Monsters hid in the shadows, ready and waiting to strike; ready and waiting for just the right opportunity to pounce on him, the right chance to get what they needed to bring back Ganon.

These monsters, however, didn’t even try to hide. They danced around their fire, waving weapons madly in the air and proudly cheering over a catch they had made. Even though Link was barely hiding, something which would easily have gotten him killed where he was from—because there was no way that this place was Hyrule—the monsters didn’t even spare him a glance.

What were those things? If anything, they looked like moblins, but smaller and a little thinner and… much cuter.

Why were the monsters kind of adorable?

He shook the thought off. If the monsters _before_ had been strange, the monsters _here_ were definitely stranger; just like everything else in this place. He had to keep his guard up—

—He stilled, horror washing over him with the broken echoes of _realisation._ He'd done so much wrong, set aside so many rules he _had_ to follow in the name of both his survival and the survival of Hyrule's people in the name of nothing but a childish want of exploration; Goddesses, he was so _stupid—_

First, he had strayed well off of the defined path, and it was only by sheer luck that the monsters in wherever he had ended up weren’t hiding deep within the very trees he had spent so much time exploring. Second, he hadn’t even tried to stay silent and out of sight, as evidenced by the fact that he was _still_ standing right in front of a camp of monsters.

Berating himself harshly, he scurried behind a tree.

And worst of all—he had taken _so many chances_. He had blindly rushed into an unknown place, he had done so much exploring without even thinking about the possible dangers of it all, he had dared to let his guard down—

He should be dead. Stupid stuff like that would get him killed, and would unleash Ganon on the world again. Link wasn’t going to let that happen.

 _Everything_ he had done and sacrificed in the past four years was for one purpose: preventing Ganon’s return. With his actions today, he had almost undone it all with one stupid decision on top of another, on top of another, and he had never felt more like an idiot in his entire life.

_Dammit._

There were monsters here too, where ‘here’ even was. His guard was up now—and it wasn’t going back down again.

⁂

A memory.

Link sighed, leaning the back of his head against one of the pillars at the Spring of Power, processing what he had just seen— _remembered._ Processing Zelda’s guilt and frustration; Zelda’s hopelessness. Processing the feelings that had warred in his stomach both back then and now. Processing that ball of dread and anxiety in his stomach back then, and how he had done everything he could to _push it down_ —

These memories were going to keep coming back, weren’t they…?

The more he travelled and discovered the world, the more memories he found himself recovering. And the truth was, he _wanted_ to recover all the memories he could now that the Calamity was gone and he didn’t have that to worry about. He _wanted_ to track down his past, find out what had happened, figure out who he was without having to rely on other peoples’ stories—

But _how_?

He had no idea what sorts of places he would have to visit for his memories—

 _“Very well,”_ Impa’s words rang in the back of his head, words from so long ago when he had told her upon their first meeting he didn't want to go searching for his memories while Zelda was still trapped, _“That is… a wise decision. However, should you find yourself wishing to seek them out at any point, come back and visit—I do believe I have some guidance for you.”_

Impa. _Impa’s offer_.

Of _course_. 

Link brought himself to his feet, stretching his arms above his head, and feeling a stab of guilt at the flock of tiny birds startled into flying away by his movements. Kakariko was his next destination, then—but first, the _lynel_.

⁂


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Link meets some people in this strange new world, who promptly direct him to the one person they know who could possibly help with his problem... another guy called _Link._  
>  Finding him goes better than expected—though, Link didn't suppose that he had very high expectations in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **for all of our sakes, please know that link = hyrule for this chapter. this is fully hyrule's POV. there are no POV and name shenanigans like last time.**  
>  (and you'll be glad to know that next chapter, we finally get some damn nicknames up in here)
> 
> sorry for the delay in this chap! uni has been kicking my ass, but it's all good <3 and gosh, can i take a moment to say how crazy it is how much love you guys have ALREADY given me? you all bless me :'D

A broken machine lay half-buried in the grass, moss climbing up its metal and intricate swirling designs marking every inch of its casing. It was tall—taller than Link himself by a good foot, not that that said much, and had a strangely round structure that seemed to suggest that if it could move, it would move by rotating itself rather than with any legs or wheels or anything. 

...What in the world _was_ this thing? He hadn’t ever seen anything like it. The technology seemed so advanced that it could only have resulted from centuries of development, but the machine seemed so old that there was no way that its presence in this place was recent.

Link frowned. The machine was… curious. A part of him screamed _dangerous_ , too, but he didn’t know whether to bother listening to that gut feeling when the machine was so obviously broken—

—The broken machine lit up, the intricate carvings pulsating with reds and purples. Darkness sparked from its metal, and it rotated towards him, with a horrible grinding sound ringing from the old parts scraping together. A single blue eye glowed, a stark contrast from the malevolent purples of its carvings, and stared directly at him.

He stumbled back, his heart thumping in his chest. _Shit_. Shit, he had to get away from that thing as _quickly_ as he could—because even though he had no idea what that thing was, or what it could do, he knew one thing: this machine was _dangerous._ More dangerous than he could have ever imagined.

The machine beeped. A horse whined behind him—accompanying the sound were the gently encouragements of a rider, a trot speeding into a gallop, the horse in the edge of his vision and a hand grabbing the back of his tunic, yanking him behind a large rock—

Link yelped, his heart leaping into his throat as he turned to glare at the rider, before a blinding beam of light shot from the machine’s eye and charred the ground where he had _just_ been. Fire spread through the grass. Link could do nothing but stare at the destruction, and be glad that he had not shared that same fate.

“Hylia, I didn’t realise that thing was _active_ ,” the man on the horse hissed, glancing warily at the fires made by the beam of light. Thankfully, the rock was large enough that the machine couldn’t see them, and given that no more beams of light had been shot since, Link found it safe to assume that as long as they stayed behind this rock, it wouldn’t bother them any more. The man pursed his lips, speaking hurriedly. “I work at the nearby stable. Get on—I’ll take you there, and we can get away from that _thing_.”

For a short moment, Link considered listening to the man. He considered climbing onto his horse and trusting what he said, survival rules be damned, because staying next to that murderous machine was not a thought he wanted to entertain—but before the thought could complete itself, another whispered in his ear.

 _Could he really trust this person?_ it asked, sending a chill through his bones and trapping his breath in his throat before he could properly exhale it.

 _No,_ came his answer. The ghost of a stabbing pain reverberated through his arm. He knew the enemy behind him; and all it was, was a machine. A machine that held the power to obliterate him in an instant, and a machine whose suffocating malevolence—and now that he focused on it, he could identify it as a type of magic much darker than anything he would even dare to counter, in fear that it would do nothing but swallow the light—seized his limbs and sent a chill racing through his veins, yes. But it was a _machine_. Its only motivation was to destroy; no trickery involved.

People, however, were different. They could lure you into a false sense of security, deceiving you until you believe yourself safe—and at that point, they would shed their masks and reveal themselves to be just like any other monster out there.

He had no way of knowing whether this stranger was genuine, or whether they were just another one of Ganon’s Eyes. And if the latter were true… it would only bring around more pain—not just for him, but for all the people of his kingdom who would once again suffer under Ganon’s rebirth—

The man gritted his teeth. “Hylia, kid, that Guardian is _much_ more dangerous than any person or monster in this land,” he whispered, glancing nervously back at the machine from around the rock. “I’m no Yiga. I just want to get us both away from that thing before it _kills us._ So come with me, and I give you my word that I’ll get you to the stable and leave you be—”

An explosion shook the rock they were hiding behind. With it, the machine audibly sparked, and that malicious magic spread and clung to the air. The chill of horror spread through his veins—

— _Take no chances, you can’t afford the consequences of what will go wrong_ —

—and Link knew one thing: he did not want to be around this murderous machine a second longer. 

Swallowing his trepidation, he climbed onto the horse—reminding himself that his sword lay on his back, reachable to him in little more than a second, and unreachable entirely to the man—and prayed that this wouldn’t backfire on him. The man tapped his foot against the horse’s side. The horse increased its speed into a gallop and tension drained from Link’s shoulders as that machine faded out of sight.

“What _was_ that thing…?” he muttered to himself before even realising he had done so; and before registering that there was someone next to him who would hear that exact question.

The man jolted. “Are you from... elsewhere?” he asked. Link suppressed a wince—he really hadn’t intended to actually _ask_ the guy—and didn’t answer the man’s question, both out of a still-present unwillingness to trust him and such little knowledge about this place that he didn’t even know where _elsewhere_ was. “That was a Guardian. Ancient machines that were corrupted by Ganon during the Calamity. They’ve been crawling all over Hyrule for the past century—if you see one, your best chance of survival comes from running as far away as you possibly can.”

 _Hyrule…_ So, he _was_ in Hyrule, then? And all this stuff about _Ganon,_ and this _Calamity,_ and the man speaking about it as if it were common knowledge—yet Link didn’t know a thing about any of it. Well. He knew _Ganon,_ of course, but the way the man spoke gave him the idea that this wasn't just another aftereffect of the time Hyrule spent under his rule. He spoke as though it were a completely different story, a completely different _history_ , and such a commonly known one that _he_ was the fool for never having heard of it. 

Link gritted his teeth and forced down the emotions swelling in his chest—Goddesses, this all made no _sense_. 

“Is something up?” the man asked.

Link froze. He didn’t trust this guy whatsoever—he had no reason _to_ suspect him of anything, but neither did he have any reason _not_ to suspect him. The only reason he hadn’t already taken the initiative and thrown himself off the horse already was the small stable in the distance, quickly becoming closer, and the people bustling in and out of that very stable. Whatever his intentions were, he doubted that he was in any immediate danger given how populated the place was. It was much easier for one of Ganon’s Eyes to act far away from people, after all.

...And he didn’t know anything about this place. It was supposedly Hyrule, yet Link had travelled all _across_ Hyrule and never seen anything like it. The more information he could get, the better.

So he breathed in, breathed out, swallowed his pride, and spoke. “I have… no idea where I am. Or how I got here. Or how to get back home.”

Though he may not be sure if going home was the _best_ idea, given the entire situation with Ganon’s revival, he couldn’t leave the Zeldas alone. He couldn’t just _abandon_ them. And there was no way the monsters would just ignore him simply because he was somewhere else—they would hunt him down, just as they always had. Nothing would change. It’d be better for everyone if he were on familiar ground, with familiar monsters that he _knew_ how to deal with, so that the risk of Ganon returning was as small as possible.

The horse slowed into a stop outside the stable, and the man climbed off. Link swung his legs over and let himself drop to the ground too.

“I can’t say I’m the best person to help with any of that,” the man said, wincing, “but you _could_ try asking Link.”

Link blinked. “Er— Link?”

...As in, _himself_?

“He helped a lot with the whole Kilton issue we were having a while back. And he helped some friends of mine with their leviathan research,” the man explained, completely oblivious to Link’s confusion. “Point is, he is insanely good at figuring stuff like that out.”

...Link. He had never met _anyone else_ named Link, and judging from Impa’s reaction when he’d told her his name all that time ago, it wasn’t a name that just _anybody_ had—in fact, according to old legends, only the fabled hero held that name. Not that Link knew or trusted much of those legends; but if they existed, they had to count for something, right?

And this _Link_ … it wasn’t much, but it was a starting point. If he could find this Link, then maybe he could get some answers.

“...Where can I find him?”

⁂

The instructions were simple: go to literally _any_ town in the kingdom—and the man had reiterated _literally_ _any—_ and look for a guy appearing either from a cliff on a paraglider, or out of actual blue strings at one of the shrines dotted around the place. It wouldn’t take long, the man assured. The other Link was something of a regular visitor of pretty much every town in Hyrule—something about refilling his arrow stocks from the various shops dotted around the kingdom, he recalled.

However, one vital problem made itself clear when Link went to follow these instructions: that being, that Link had absolutely no idea where the nearest town even _was._

Another problem: he now stood alone among an endless sea of trees, because at some point the poorly defined path had faded into nothing without his abysmal sense of direction even noticing. 

He kept his footsteps silent, his breathing light, and forced down all-too familiar feelings of dread in his stomach at the prospect of unknown dangers lurking out here in the woods. A hand found its way to the hilt of his sword without conscious thought.

The monsters around here were… strange. Different. From the weird and almost _cute_ ones he had seen earlier at the camp (called _bokoblins_ by the men at the stable, and described as weaker than moblins—but the moblins they had described semed much stronger than the ones he knew), to the blue wolves he had seen all over the fields, growling at anything that dared to infringe upon their territory, and to those terrifying machines— _Guardians_ —dotted around everywhere, _everything_ was different to the world he was so familiar with. 

Different meant unknown. Unknown meant _dangerous,_ and meant that he could not afford to let his guard down no matter what happened.

Goddesses, what had he been _thinking_ earlier, doing exactly that without a care in the world?

He cast the thought into the back of his mind before it could progress any further and glanced around the forest again. Nothing but trees were visible. Link almost relaxed, but the part of him that knew how easily and _effectively_ monsters could hide prevented him from doing so; and his hand stayed on the hilt of his sword.

It was true that he had seen very few monsters since that bokoblin camp from earlier. He’d been told that most of them tended to stay away from the stables, and that the most dangerous monsters made their homes in the depths of the forests—that, at least, was similar enough to home.

But the monsters he _had_ seen, however? They were… odd. And not just in looks.

Before he’d left the stable, another traveller had stumbled in, trailed by a group of red bokoblins that were dealt with pretty quickly by both him and one of soldiers(?)—and when they had appeared, he had tensed, waiting for them to completely turn their attention to him… only for them to not even bother. To spare him nothing but a short glance and turn back to the man they were already attacking. To act like they didn’t even _care_ about Ganon’s revival after _so many years_ of relentlessly hunting him down to bring about exactly that.

And there had been other monsters around these parts—groups of bokoblins, the occasional moblin, packs of wolves—that had seen him, picked a fight, but hadn’t acted like the monsters he was used to in any way. They didn’t hunt him down, instead fighting in times where he had stumbled into their territory or simply been in their path; they didn’t fight like the monsters he was used to, swinging their weapons around as though just wanting a good _fight_ instead of aiming for the quickest and most efficient ways of death possible; and, most strangely, in times where he had shown himself to put up a fight? The monsters _retreated,_ like it wasn’t even worth the trouble.

 _Anything_ was worth the trouble for the monsters he knew, if it meant getting one step closer to Ganon’s return. The monsters he knew didn’t just _retreat._

…Impossibly, it almost seemed like they weren’t interested in him or his blood at _all—_

No. Those kind of thoughts weren’t even worth entertaining; all it would do was give him false hope, and he knew much better than to let himself believe that things would be over just like that.

But regardless. It was puzzling—chillingly so—and Link couldn’t help but feel completely powerless in this strange place; because for all his skill in fighting, for all that he _knew_ how to survive… what use was any of that when he had no idea what would come next—?

A roar sounded through the forest and reverbated off the trees. The leaves trembled—and Link knew, with a horrifying drop of his stomach, that it wasn’t due to the wind. It was the force of _whatever_ monster had just roared.

Link didn’t know what in the world it was, but he did know one thing: it was _dangerous._

Footsteps echoed, galloping at such a speed that set off every single danger sense he had. Explosions sounded. Through the thick trees, he could see a figure moving wildly, squaring off against a massive, horse-like monster—

A _lynel_. A lynel, bigger than any he had ever seen, power emanating off it in waves and seizing his breath in his throat.

He stumbled backwards, the beating of his heart so fierce that he was half-terrified of the lynel hearing the sound of his own heart over anything else. His back came into collision with a hard surface—the trunk of a tree, he realised after a short moment. A hand found its way to the hilt of his sword, and with trembling breaths, he prayed that the lynel would just _stay_ wherever it was and not bother him—

—His heart stopped, and he remembered. _Someone was fighting over there._

The average person didn’t stand a chance against a lynel. The average person would last no more than two minutes before the lynel rammed them full-force and killed them on the spot.

Link wasn’t an average person, but that only meant that his chance against lynels without the use of magic was only slightly more in his favour. Adding that to how lynels were just as loyal to Ganon’s revival as any other monster out for his blood—

—He couldn’t risk fighting it. There was too big a chance involved; too much of a _risk,_ and if Link knew one thing, it was that he _couldn’t take risks._

Taking risks would get him killed. Any chance he took, no matter how big or small the risk involved, was one more chance that Ganon had to revive himself once and for all; and when that happened, the kingdom would suffer in the exact same way it had under Ganon’s rule four years ago. 

...Link wasn’t going to let that happen. Even if it took everything he had, even if it destroyed him in the end, Link _refused_ to let that happen.

But there was a _person_ there, fighting against that lynel. There was a person, likely just an average person, with a family and people who loved them who would soon be dead if he didn’t intervene.

Link cursed under his breath. If he didn’t take the chance, then this person was _dead_ —and he had more than enough deaths on his shoulders from the time Ganon had been alive and he had been too slow to stop his reign before the damage had been done.

…Goddesses, he _hated_ this instinct he had. The instinct that commanded him to step in should anyone need help. The instinct that drove him to protect Impa with nothing but a tatty shield and the will to see her live; the instinct that compelled him to face against Ganon so that the world might know peace once more. The instinct that, with no effort at all, overrode every single survival instinct he had—because what was the point in _him_ surviving if that meant the life of someone else; someone who didn’t deserve the fate given to them?

But if he _did_ take the chance… That one chance would lead to another, and there were so many ways it could all go wrong, either the lynel killed him on sight or the person was killed in a moment of distraction or other monsters would intervene or—

—An arrow flew onto the grass ahead of him, burning red with flames that tore across the ground. Link lifted his head; and with a start, realised that the lynel was _right in front of him._

 _Anything that sees you_ , a part of his mind whispered, compelling him to draw his sword and stare the lynel in the eye, _has to be killed on sight._

Except a lynel, especially one as large and menacing as this, wasn’t something that could be killed on sight. A battle to kill it would be bloody and hard and a test of the soul as much as the body, pushing his whole being to its limit. Fighting it without bloodshed was impossible.

And with that, another rule whispered its command into his ear: if bloodshed was unavoidable, _don’t let the monsters reach your blood_.

Link steeled himself and prepared to go into the fight. He was going to get that person out of there and leave the lynel to its territory—and later, he’d pray that it had found some poor monster to occupy itself with instead of following him. Normally, lynels didn’t care much for alliance, at least.

He readied a shield spell, letting the cool wash of red spread over him, and met the eye of his target. His grip on his sword tightened. A sword beam collided with the lynel’s face—and it recoiled, leaning on its front legs for a moment to catch its breath. 

The other figure, the one one he had entered the fight with the intention of _saving_ , used the opportunity to rush in, their long hair flying, and climb _on top of_ the lynel’s back—

Link blinked, not even able to take advantage of the moment and deliver his own attacks while it was down—what the _fuck?_ And without any care for his bewilderment, they delivered strike after strike into the lynel’s back with their spear.

The lynel bucked with terrifying strength, and he (definitely _he,_ Link realised, getting a view of his face—and as he looked closer, the scars stretching across his skin became hauntingly evident) backflipped off its back before it could hurt him. The boy caught a glance of his spear and cursed.

Link resisted the urge to do the same once he saw its tip; coated in black, and dripping with blood.

That _same_ black blood as all the abnormal monsters in the kingdom had. That _same_ black blood that always correlated to terrifying strength, far beyond what was normal; that meant this thing was completely unpredictable, and that he’d be in for a tough fight ahead.

...No. There would be little fighting this thing. Link _had_ to get the other boy—both the other boy and himself—out of here, and fast, before this lynel killed them both. 

The boy grimaced as he looked up at the lynel. “ _That’s_ why this lynel is outside of its normal territory…” he muttered. 

Link’s eyes snapped to him. “You _know_ something about this?” he asked, unable to hold back the surprise in his voice. The burning need to get the other boy out of here faded into a quiet thrum of worry, drowned out by the prospect of _answers_ —answers for all the strange happenings of late, and with any luck, answers to the question of how to _fix it._

The boy’s head turned to him and his eyes widened. “Yeah, it’s—” he began, before his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Wait, who are—? _Crap_ —!”

—Link’s breath caught in his throat as the lynel grabbed his attention once more, moving in the peripherals of his vision. He raised his sword, letting magical energy thrum through it as he prepared to send a sword beam at its legs; if he could stop it moving, it would be much less a threat and they could _get out of here, possibly—_

—A dome of shocks appeared, extending far enough as to send tiny pinpricks erupting on his skin; and engulfing the lynel in full. The lynel seized under the shocks’ might. Link’s eyes darted around, looking for a potential cause—his gaze landing on a lone, yellow-tipped arrow in a puddle nearby, and the bow in the other boy’s hands. Could that have…?

He expelled his wandering thoughts from his mind. Now wasn’t the time to get distracted—it was the _perfect_ chance to make their escape from this lynel, and Link had every intention of doing exactly that.

He opened his mouth to tell the other boy to get _out of here_ —

—Only to see him rushing in once more as the residual shocks faded, performing a flurry of vicious attacks in places where it would hurt the _most._

Link gritted his teeth. “Are you _insane_ ?!” he exclaimed, only mildly regretting how harsh his words were. “That thing is _dangerous._ We need to leave before it kills us!”

“What, and,”—the boy stabbed at the lynel’s back—“let this thing,”—another few stabs—“run free,”—stab, stab, stab—“and hurt _more people_ than it already has?”

Link’s breath caught in his throat. He let it out in a half-growl, half-sigh. 

“I can handle this thing!” the boy declares, his conviction relentless even as the lynel begins to stand, seemingly unfazed by the attacks he had just unleashed upon it. “There’s a stable nearby—you’ll be safe there, so go!”

Link gritted his teeth once more.

Going to the stable…? Just _running_ from this monster and leaving this other guy to deal with it on his behalf…? There was no _way_ Link was doing that. But—

As a rule, he never took chances. He never rushed into battle when he could avoid it, and he never tried to face an enemy he wasn’t certain he could defeat. That was just how it _had to be._ Because in a world where a single mistake from him could lead to the destruction of everything, above all, his priority had to be surviving—surviving to live _one more day,_ repeated each and every day like a mantra.

He didn’t have the time to heroically save people from monsters, or stop the rampage of a dangerous one. He didn’t have the time to take chances.

And yet… 

He firmed his grip on his sword and felt deep within him for his deep magic reserves.

One chance was all it took to destroy everything. One chance could mean the death of everything he had ever grown to know. One single chance could change everything, and Link had been living long enough to know that those changes usually weren’t good.

But taking one chance, in a world full of monsters who seemed to have no interest in his blood…

...How much could it hurt?

(And what the heck, with his sense of direction, could he even find that stable again _anyway?)_

Tapping into his magic, he cast two spells: _shield_ for both himself and the blond boy who seemed not to be wearing much more defensive than a simple cloak and tunic—though, oddly, he could sense some foreign magic emanating from the fabric itself—and for himself he cast _fire_.

Flames licked the steel of his blade, and a burning orange cast away the regular silver colour. His next sword beam carried the heat of a thousand flames; and when it collided with the lynel’s skin, it _howled,_ visibly staggering.

The other boy stared at the red glow washing over him in a brief moment of wonder.

“It’s a shield! It’ll help protect you!” Link explained, reaching for his boomerang and throwing it with all the strength he had. It hit the lynel’s head, not seeming to faze it—but Link wasn’t going to let that stop him. “I’m not leaving,” he said, his resolve firm with determination.

The other boy met his eyes, expression unreadable, until—

A small smile touched at his lips. He nodded in way of acknowledgement before immediately turning his attention back to the fight. The cue was more than enough for Link to turn his attention towards the lynel once more.

The other boy was… a pretty good fighter, as it turned out. A spear seemed to be his weapon of choice—that and his bow, which he felt to be something of an odd combination, but Link wasn’t going to question it. With it, he landed hit after hit in rapid succession, slowly chipping at both the lynel’s defences… as well as its patience, if its increasingly enraged growls were anything to go by.

The boy also seemed to rely on dodging attacks rather than taking them head-on to counter them—must like Link himself, and definitely a style that made sense given that he used a _spear,_ of all things.

The lynel swung its sword in several horizontal arcs, the force behind each promising swift death, but the boy dodged each one as though well-acquainted with the exact motions—

—Link’s heart leapt into his throat as the lynel changed tactics, positioning its sword to strike from _above._ The other boy couldn’t hope to move out its path or even defend himself from the strike with nothing but the spear in his hands—

“— _Reflect,_ ” he hissed under his breath, extending his hands forward and focusing his magic into the sword’s path. A blue barrier formed itself into existence before the sword could hit its mark. The other boy seized the chance to duck backwards before sending him a quick, grateful glance and once more turning to the lynel. 

The lynel growled, standing oddly still, before letting out a _piercing_ roar to the heavens—

—The boy audibly cursed, running backwards and grabbing hold of his wrist, dragging him backwards as the lynel held its sword high in the air.

“Dangerous attack,” the other boy said briefly, half-out of breath, by way of explanation. “If we’re caught up in that one, we’re as good as dead. Trust me, been there.”

The lynel slammed its sword into the ground before Link even had the chance to question what _been there_ meant, sending a wave of searing heat that set the very air alight outwards. 

Fire grazed his skin, forcing him into an uncomfortable cringe as he stared at the lynel in astonishment. The grass around it had been reduced to nothing but cinders and flickering flames. Residues of heat laid thick in the air.

Link paused. He had never seen an attack like that from a lynel—from _any_ lynel. Was this something to do with the black blood…?

As soon as the flames had died, the boy rushed in again to take advantage of the lynel as it caught its breath, obviously worn out from the attack. Despite its exhaustion the lynel only appeared to be _more_ enraged. That, at least, lined up well with the lynels that Link knew—always clinging onto their rage and brutality until the very end.

They quickly fell into a pattern from there: the boy would attack the lynel up close with his spear, and Link would provide a distant support with more ranged attacks and the occasional spell—a _reflect_ of several fire(?) arrows that were somehow fired at both him _and_ the boy from one shot; another _shield_ over the two of them when the original casting wore off—

—The boy jumped backwards cleanly out the path of the lynel’s horizontal slash, but Link could tell; his movements weren’t as sharp as they had been at the beginning of the fight. The length of time this fight had dragged on for _was_ getting to him. They had to end this, and fast. 

Several white-tipped arrows hit the lynel’s face, and it recoiled, slumping for a short moment to regain its breath. If Link had picked up anything from how the other boy fought, it was that now would be the part where he took advantage of the weakness and attacked it relentlessly—

Except… he _didn’t_ attack.

Instead, the boy fell to one knee, digging the back end of his spear into the ground to steady his stance and heaving great breaths, shoulders trembling from exhaustion and the various injuries he’d gained during the fight. Worry gnawed at his gut the longer he stayed down; and his heart leapt into his throat when the lynel began to rise before the boy did.

No.

His foot stepped forward.

He couldn’t let the lynel defeat the other boy—defeat them _both._

He took another step, and another, and another before his mind had time to even process his actions. Magic swirled around him, its green winds illuminating the grass below him; and filled his body with both a strength unbound and a weightlessness unparalleled by even the clouds above—

And he _jumped._

Two hands gripped the hilt of his sword. He narrowed his eyes at his target, carefully adjusting his aim; and descended upon the lynel’s back in a downward strike that pierced right into the nape of its neck.

He let out a shaking breath as the lynel fell beneath his feet and withdrew his sword. 

“You okay?” he asked the other boy, breathless, extending a hand for him to take.

The other boy accepted it with a soft smile and pulled himself up. “Yep. Thanks for helping me out, there,” he said. Link waved him off, and the boy let out a weak laugh that betrayed his exhaustion and relief alike—a sentiment that Link could absolutely share. “Hylia, that was a _lot_ tougher than I expected.”

“Tell me about it,” Link agreed. 

The boy went over to where the dead lynel lay and began to take things from its corpse—its weapon, its bow, the red-tipped arrows in its quiver. Link didn’t blink at all at it. It was an action he was more than familiar with from so many times of doing that himself before getting his own weapons. He hadn’t had to take monsters’ weapons in a long time—not since getting his Magical Sword, because in all honesty he didn’t think the thing _could_ break—but the sentiment was definitely not one he had forgotten.

...And the poor guy’s spear had cracks echoing all through its steel. It wouldn’t last much longer anyway. 

What _did_ make Link pause, however, was that the boy also reached for its hooves and horn to tip them off roughly—

“What are you doing?” Link asked, oddly curious.

The boy turned to him. “Elixirs,” he answered, as if it were obvious. _Elixirs?_ “Lynel parts make the best elixirs—um, elixirs are almost like drinks you can have to strengthen or heal you. They sell for a lot, too, and the Great Fairies can use monster parts like these to enchant armour and stuff. I might as well take them, right?”

Elixirs… wait, did he mean _potions…?_

He blinked. Was _that_ how potions were made? With monster parts? And the Great Fairies enchanting armour—all they had ever done for him was heal his wounds, which came in extremely handy at times, but he had never heard of them using _monster parts_ for _enchantments._

The boy tapped on a stone tablet on his belt and… placed the hooves and horns he had collected… into it? Link _guessed?_ The parts almost _dissolved_ into blue strings in a way that couldn’t be anything other than magic—yet, when he focused, there wasn’t a trace of a magical signature from the tablet. 

...Okay then.

Link frowned, wondering _just_ how that worked—but decided to set it aside to deal with later. He was too drained to think about any of this stuff—

His breath hitched as he turned back to the boy, seeing scratches and wounds of all sorts trailing across his skin. Luckily, he himself had gotten away with nothing but minor scratches because of the distance and defences he had kept up, but the boy definitely couldn’t say the same.

“Here, I can heal your arm,” he quietly offered, reaching within himself for what remained of his magic reserves. The boy looked at him in surprise. He held his arm out without complaint, and Link hovered his own hands over the wound, the magic beneath his hands glowing brightly as the skin knitted itself back together.

Once he was done, the boy looked at it and experimentally moved his arm around, his smile widening into a grin as he realised there were no drawbacks to his movements.

“How’d you—?”

“—Magic,” Link said, a smile growing on his lips. 

The boy examined his arm again, eyebrows knitted in what Link could only identify as some sort of broken familiarity, as though he remembered experiencing something like this in the past but couldn’t quite grasp the memory. Or, with that subdued sadness in his eyes… perhaps it was instead that he had _lost_ the person who had done this for him before?

The boy shook his emotions off by quite literally shaking his head, plastered a smile on his face, and wiped clean the hints of sadness that Link had seen moments before so easily that he almost forgot that they had been there in the first place.

“Anyway, I’m Link,” the boy introduced. In rapid realisation, the pieces slotted together in Link’s mind—of the blue strings from that stone tablet, and the memory of the earlier man’s description of blue strings and the ancient shrines. _This_ was who he needed to find. “Nice to meet you?”

“Oh, um,” Link said lamely, looking at Other Link(?) with surprise. “Hi?”

…That was much easier than he thought it’d be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed! :D

**Author's Note:**

> if you listen close enough you can hear my reputation as a crack writer shattering into a million glass shards
> 
> [tumblr](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DLzxrzFCyOs)!!


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